Yu-Gi-Oh Mirrors
by Blacksheep28
Summary: Collection of short stories from my Yu-Gi-Oh universe. If you have an idea post it here /s/10717182/1/Yu-Gi-Oh-Plot-Bunny
1. Tomb Robber

He had carefully planned it all out. With Diabound on his side and Zorc's promise of power and revenge granted when freed Bakura was finally ready to confront the pharaoh. It had taken years, but the revenge would be sweet, finally allowing his kin's spirits to find rest. Pharaoh or not he would learn there were lines he could not cross.

Then he died. All of Bakura's meticulous planning fell apart. All his work was meaningless. The spirits sacrificed for the Millennium Items still clung to him screaming for revenge. But against who? Curse the pharaoh for dying too soon! He had his own armies and power now, and the coward escaped the death that should have claimed him!

Zorc comforted him. Their deal was still in place. Bakura could still receive his justice. He just had to alter his target slightly. Bakura's attention turned to the pharaoh's son, so high and mighty. He was just as arrogant as his father. The same blood ran through him. Surely such an offering would appease the spirits?

Cracking a smile Bakura shoved the stone door open the rest of the way. Yes, the son would do just as well as the father. But first he'd make sure his tormentor received the burial he deserved. The tomb robber entered the pharaoh's tomb. It had taken a year for them to finally finish piling in treasures to be taken to the afterlife. Bakura studied the room. The traps had been difficult and he'd had to disarm more than one curse, but he was here.

Glittering granite covered the walls every inch carefully carved with spells for a safe journey. Larger than life paintings of the gods and the pharaoh looked down on him from the pillars. Sneering Bakura glanced at the beautiful jage, gold, and marble figurines with offerings of jewels guarding the room. There were even miniature guards. How quaint! He'd make sure they never had the chance to awaken.

"Diabound," Bakura called. The serpentine ka uncurled from his place inside the tomb robber and slipped out to stand beside his master. Bakura petted the shadow spirit fondly.

"Eat all the shadows here," he commanded. Diabound's eyes gleamed as he struck forwards. The stone guards shattered black shadows rising from them. The powerful ka quickly swallowed the magic before it could fully work, visibly swelling in size as he absorbed it.

Chuckling Bakura left his ka to his work and lowered the bag from his shoulder. "Well well pharaoh, what have you left for me?" Humming he picked up the sacrificial bowls. He just loved robbing the pharaohs' tombs. They always had the best treasures. Savoring sweet dates from a platter he poured gold coins and glittering jewels into the bag. Carefully he hefted each figurine mentally calculating it's worth before tossing it aside where it shattered or adding it to his growing pile.

"Hm? What's this?" Bakura's grin turned completely predatory as he looked at the king's armory.

"Why pharaoh! I thought you were a peace loving man! Here, let me relieve you of this burden." Cackling Bakura pulled a beautiful steel sword from the wall, the sheath a soft white leather with bronze edging. He checked the balance and unclipped his own sword replacing it with the pharaoh's. This one was much better quality than the one taken off that guard. The poor blade hadn't been cared for at all before Bakura had received it. This one, however, had never even been used. It would last a long time under his loving touch. A few decorative blades were added to the sack, keeping a couple of the more practical daggers out to add to his own collection.

Moving over to the canopic jars Bakura let out a long whistle.  
"Would you look at this! Real ivory!" Cheerfully he opened the containers emptying the former pharaoh's innards on the floor. Wrinkling his nose at the smell Bakura stepped back. He might have his share of death on his hands, and even appreciate the coppery sweet smell of fresh blood, but rotting flesh had an entirely different effect on him...

_Screams echoed in his mind. He could smell their bodies burning, rotting under the foul magic. The boy couldn't seem to stop staring as he watched the face of a boy he'd been playing with just yesterday deteriorate, turning black and falling apart into the large boiling pot beneath..._

Snarling he hurled the jackal headed jar across the room. A satisfying smash echoed in the room soothing the thief.

"Ra curse him," Bakura muttered, shaking slightly. How dare he die so easily? How dare he rest in this tomb when Bakura's kin didn't even have enough left of them to have a burial at all? No, this wouldn't happen. The pharaoh would not remain here.

Stalking over to the sarcophagus Bakura read the loving epitaph inscribed there. A twisted smile formed on his lips. Yes, beloved by all. The epitome of righteousness. The tomb robber _had_ to be the one in the wrong. The _pharaoh_ could do no wrong. Pulling out a dagger Bakura sliced open the seal and cracked open the sarcophagus revealing the inner coffin.

A much simpler covering hid the mummy from sight, the pharaoh's royal red cape wrapped around it. The pharaoh's favorite, the blood red color forbidden to be worn among commoners. Bakura wasn't a commoner of course. He was a king himself, ruling the underbelly of Egypt. Chuckling he pulled the cape away and wrapped it around himself, fastening it around his shoulders.

"Everything you had, pharaoh," Bakura whispered," Everything you called dear shall be mine, stolen as you stole mine." Chuckling darkly he quickly fastened a rope to the inner coffin and tugged it out after him. The pharaoh would be moved to his new grave tonight, a feast for the jackals.

"Diabound!" Bakura called. The shadow spirit turned from his destruction of the room, broken shards visible around the now much larger ka.

"It's time we give our greetings to the new pharaoh." Red eyes gleamed as the ka returned to his master nuzzling him affectionately. Proudly he left the inner sanctum. It was almost too easy leaving the tomb. The guards by the entrance didn't even have the chance to shout as Diabound killed them, leaving a horse frozen in fear for Bakura to take.

Bakura mounted the horse and tied his loot tightly. None of the pharaoh's goods would be lost. The far end of the rope around the coffin was tied to the horn of the saddle setting it to be dragged behind him. Diabound flowed effortlessly back into the shadows. Around him Bakura could once more feel his kin's spirits stir restlessly moaning for him to help them.

"Not much longer now," Bakura promised. Kicking the frightened horse into a gallop the mad tomb robber set off to the palace. Now he would have his revenge.


	2. Mana's New Home

Mana shivered in fear as she was brought into the palace. Her mom told her not to play with magic. She knew it was dangerous. She just hadn't thought the cute monster that had appeared would really hurt anyone. It seemed she was wrong, and now she was being dragged to the palace by a guard. She shrank down as much as the young girl could as they entered where the pharaoh was holding court. She knew she was in trouble, but she hadn't thought the pharaoh himself would pay attention to someone as unimportant as her! Wrapping her arms around the thin linen dress she wore Mana glanced up at the stern guard. He released her arm, a sharp command to stay put and he approached the living Horus. He had been terrifying when he grabbed her, but now she wished he was still standing beside her. At least he was something vaguely familiar.

She knew she shouldn't but Mana couldn't help herself from taking a peek at the pharaoh. She had heard about how wonderful he was, and really just wanted a little look before she died. Would she die for what she did? She didn't know. The pharaoh looked a lot how Mana had imagined he would. His features were stern with fiery crimson eyes that seemed to burn into everything he saw. Gold adorned his bronzed skin with a brilliant red cloak wrapped around his body, a clear declaration of who he was. There was even the Puzzle like she'd heard hung around his neck, the most powerful Item in existence.

A clatter from behind tore the girl from her thoughts jumping sharply. Magic sparked in her hands reflexively. Mana wished they wouldn't do that. There would be no way to convince them that it had been someone else doing the magic, and really she hadn't meant any harm.

"Who's there?" a guard called. Mana's breath caught as another child stepped out. He looked like he was around the same age as her. The boy stared at her unabashedly drinking in her appearance. He was so very different from her. His skin was a dark bronze color while hers was more of a soft brown. His skin looked soft despite his sharp features where her own had callouses and a couple scars from playing. Thick spiky black hair framed his face, shining a dim red where the light reflected off it. It looked soft to the touch compared to her own knotted unwashed light brown hair. She tugged at it nervously feeling inadequate before this palace child. It seemed even the children in the palace were grander than her. His eyes matched the king's, even with the same piercing stare that seemed to gaze right into her soul, a world's difference from her soft blue eyes. Clearly he belonged in the palace with his red rimmed kilt and thick golden bracelets.

"Who are you?" the boy demanded. Mana flinched. How could he speak this way in front of the pharaoh? He'd get them both in trouble, and he hadn't even acknowledged the guard. Mana shifted nervously unable to find her voice.

"You know better than to enter when I'm holding an audience, my son," the pharaoh said sternly. This was the prince? No wonder he was so far beyond what she was. Her eyes dropped to the ground as the boy's cheeks darkened. He turned to the pharaoh and bowed.

"Apologies my pharaoh," the prince murmured, "I was simply curious. There aren't many children in the palace, and I know them all." The pharaoh's look softened slightly as he looked at his son. Mana couldn't believe she was catching the attention of someone so important. A squeak broke past her lips as the pharaoh's eyes turned to her.

"What do you call yourself mage child?"

"M-Mana, my phar-raoh," Mana stuttered. The pharaoh nodded his head.

"My guard says you are gifted with your magic. Is this true?"

"I really o-only know a-a little." The pharaoh smiled.

"The prince could use another servant, especially one as gifted as yourself. Mahaad's studying to become a magician now, is he not?" Mana could hardly breath. Was this real? Were they really suggesting she stay here with the pharaoh? Serve the prince? She was dying to ask about her family, but the pharaoh's word was law. She couldn't say no.

"You will stay here and learn how to control your magic. You'll earn your place serving the prince. Understood?" Mana's heart sank slightly. They wanted her for her magic. If she'd just listened she wouldn't be here. Glancing to the prince Mana caught sight of a small smile, seemingly out of place on the proud child.

"Understood," Mana whispered. The pharaoh waved his hand dismissing her. Mana looked around nervously, hoping someone would tell her what to do. Should she leave? Keep standing here? She flinched as a warm hand took her own. Looking over she was shocked to see it was the prince. The prince had touched her! Mana, a lowly commoner! She didn't know what to do. Should she apologize? Pull away? Numb she just stood there.

"Come on," the prince whispered. Numb Mana let him pull her back into the hall. The prince moved quickly weaving through the halls and large rooms with ease. Mana was lost within minutes. They stopped outside one of the rooms the prince glancing back and grinning at her. The bold confidence and playfulness was obvious in his features, but there was something more there as well, curiosity, and maybe nervousness? No, royalty was never nervous. She was just seeing her own fear.

"I know my father can be scary sometimes," the prince told her, "but he's a nice man when he's not running court. I'm sure you'll like him." Mana gaped in surprise. The prince was talking to her! Why? She was just a servant. He frowned and tugged on her hair.

"If you're going to be my servant you need to smell better," the prince told her. Mana blushed. She knew she wasn't as polished as the other palace people. If she was going to stay here she had a lot to learn. The prince opened the door and nudged her in. She blinked surprised at the large bath house.

"Here, wash up. And make sure to use some perfume." Mana nodded her head. As soon as the prince was gone she obediently stripped and stepped into the water. It was warm. This was a luxury she'd never had before. Mana didn't wash often, perhaps twice a year, and the river water was cold. This actually felt nice. Feeling out of place in such a grand room she scrubbed herself down quickly feeling oddly self conscious about the dirt washing off her. She washed her hair and stepped back out making sure to use perfume as she'd been told. She reached for her dress, and blinked to find it was gone.

"Miss?" Mana looked up to find a beautiful woman standing there smiling softly.

"Your old dress was removed. The prince commanded us to prepare a new dress for you." A clean beige dress was held out to her. Anxiously she slipped it on. New clothes! It seemed that everything of her old life would be stripped away here. The dress felt nice, and she liked it, but somehow she found herself wishing for her old one.

"Thank you," she murmured. The woman inclined her head and left. Mana crept out of the bath house and looked around, finding the prince leaning against a nearby wall looking bored. He glanced up to her and grinned.

"Good! You look much better now." He made a quick show of smelling her and nodded his approval.

"You smell better too." Waving for her to follow him the prince again set off down through the palace. Scurrying behind him as quick as she could Mana followed him out. The prince began to chatter, pointing out the various rooms, complaining about his tutors, and showing her where he spent his days. Her head spun trying to keep all of it straight, homesickness building up in her chest. When supper came she could barely pick at the rich feast before her. It wasn't as grand as the prince's own meal, more like the other servant's, Mahaad's. He was older than her and the prince, and seemed used to the prince's mischievous manner. She was shocked when he actually had the audacity to correct the prince, only to watch in surprise as the prince laughed at Mahaad and threw a grape at him. Mahaad disappeared again after the meal to study some more, the day finally beginning to wrap down.

It was late that night when Mana curled up on her pallet. The prince had told her she'd be sleeping in his room to serve him if he woke up. The large bed the prince had was amazing. There was a huge room set for his clothes, and a table for breakfast, a lounge, and the walls had beautiful carvings. Still, the room was frightening. It seemed so empty compared to home. Mana shook slightly sobs finally escaping her. She wanted to go home. She wanted her mom.

A silent figure slipped from the bed. Mana hiccuped softly as she was cradled.

"Sh," the prince whispered, "I'm here. I'll take care of you. Everything's alright." The night breaking down the barriers of what was right in her positions Mana clung tightly to the prince. She buried her face in his shoulder still shaking slightly as she cried. Mana listened in soft amazement as the prince began to sing an old lullaby in a low husky voice.

It seemed hours, but held close by the prince Mana finally drifted to sleep. The prince smiled at his new servant. He had wanted someone close to his age. And now he had one. He wouldn't lose her.

"I'll protect you," he whispered.

And Mana believed him.


	3. Insanity's Burden

"One kitty, two kitties, three kitties in a basket," the man sang to himself. Bakura rolled his eyes. Great, another host wasted. It had been what, three months? And already the man had lost his grip on reality. Bakura hadn't even managed to locate even one Item, and already he had to change hosts. Watching the former merchant putter around in his treasure Bakura had to resist the urge to possess the man and get his filthy hands away from Bakura's hard earned goods.

He had to be patient. If the man completely deteriorated before he found another host Shadi would catch up for sure, and it could be decades before he had another chance. Gritting his teeth he watched the host pick up a beautiful chalice he'd nicked from a local lord's house.

"The king has visited! Lucky me!"

_Extremely. Now get your hands off the cup and go eat._ The man startled at the harsh voice dropping the chalice. Bakura bit off an oath. He was lucky nothing had broken.

"Yes master," the man muttered. The spirit watched from within the Ring as the man immediately scurried up the stairs obeying the voice that had forced the man into submission. Bakura didn't mind this little effect of the spreading insanity forcing the man to rely heavily on his council but it was such a nuisance having to actually take care of his host. Why couldn't the man be more self reliant?

Perhaps he could use another patch. Bakura could use shadow magic to temporarily glue the man's mind back together. It would help with the problem, make his host more bearable. Unfortunately it was the effect of shadow magic and being possessed by Bakura that made his hosts go insane in the first place, and in the long run the patches only made the situation worse and the host deteriorate faster. Deciding that he couldn't afford another patch without attracting attention from Shadi from using so much magic Bakura sighed.

A soft squeal distracted him from his thoughts. Bakura peered out at his host and let out a groan.

_What are you doing now?_ The merchant looked up from his seat on the stone floor and grinned at the air. Cheerfully he offered a bouquet of weeds colorful flowers heading them.

"Aren't they pretty?" Bakura rolled his eyes at the offered plants.

_Yes, very pretty. Now eat._ Obligingly the merchant shoved a flower in his mouth and began to eat it.

Screw it. Suitable or not Bakura was switching to the next body he found. Possessing the body Bakura felt the host whimper slightly before giving in to the familiar darkness. Bakura could still taste the petals in his mouth. Grimacing he did his best to clean it out and grabbed the bread he'd hoped his host would eat. Finding a host wasn't easy. If he couldn't find a successful one he wasn't returning to this body hungry.

Bakura walked out to the local market. It was busy in the small Roman town. He was still quite near Egypt, his host having been mostly spent making sure he was far enough that Shadi wouldn't be able to track him easily. He was impressed by how powerful Rome had become since he'd last been out, if disappointed in Egypt's fall. At least their gods were amusing, even if the offerings weren't as good as the ones he'd stolen when alive.

Spotting a fellow thief Bakura smirked. He was just a simple pickpocket, but the familiarity still drew Bakura to him. Perhaps he would make a good host. Bakura walked over to the thief following him to a quieter street. He approached the skinny teen and called out softly.

"Hey, I have something you might be interested in." Jumping the young thief spun around and stared at Bakura nervously. He wasn't a fool. Good. Bakura lifted the Ring from around his neck.

"It's real gold," Bakura said, "but believe me, you won't want to part with it." The thief moved closer, captivated by the Ring's shine. Bakura smirked.

"What's the catch?" the thief asked. Bakura shrugged.

"You'll lose it if it doesn't consider you a worthy wielder." The thief considered his words, and decided it was worth the risk. Bakura smiled as he carefully handed the Ring over. This part was the hardest, not releasing his host until the Ring was fully in the hands of another. Thankfully the thief was greedy and took the Ring despite common sense saying not to. Bakura was pulled back inside, waiting eagerly to see if the thief would be accepted, the insane man watching curiously as his pretty was taken by another.

Rapidly shadows fastened onto his new host. "Wha-" The thief didn't have a chance to finish before the shadows leaped shredding the unfortunate mortal apart. Bakura watched sorrowfully as the thief died ugly black wounds on his body as again the shadows retreated. Great. He'd been too weak to even hold the Ring.

The insane merchant chuckled and picked the Ring back up cradling it gently.

"Mine, all mine." Bakura rolled his eyes. So much for that plan. He wondered how long it'd be until someone finally rescued him. Curling up in the Ring Bakura did his best to ignore the Ring being licked.

At this rate he _hoped_ Shadi would find him.


	4. Bakura's Host

The spirit shifted restlessly inside the pendant forming his prison. Again his host had been worn out. The same cycle he'd suffered again and again had come back. At least this one hadn't lost his mind, simply wasting away under the weight of being repeatedly possessed and used by the spirit. He would have a chance to choose his next host before this one died. His host was desperate to get rid of the pendant, finally understanding the curse he'd heard about when he received it. The spirit was disgusted by his eagerness. So weak. Perhaps this time he'd find a mortal who wouldn't crack. He couldn't stand another useless host.

The weakened man hovered over his stand in the Egyptian bazaar, eyes darting about. He would give the pendant away if he could. The spirit wouldn't allow him to do so of course, more particular about who would hold him. He searched the crowd settling on a foreigner looking through the bazaar. A restless air surrounded him, perfect for the wandering spirit's needs. The spirit chuckled. _That one,_ the spirit commanded, _call the foreigner over._ The mortal shook at The Voice's command but obeyed. He had no choice.

"Sir! Sir, here! I have what you want!" The Englishman looked around frowning. Plenty of merchants hawked their goods at him. Finding what he wanted was difficult. Still, he headed the seller's call, partly drawn by the spirit's own beckoning. Chuckling the spirit latched his power into the dying mortal. _He will take me, or you die._ The man shivered, oblivious that he was doomed to die either way.

"Looking for souvenir sir? Take this." The gold pendant was shoved into the foreigner's hands catching him off guard. The Englishman tilted the pendant studying the strange design. It looked similar to a dream catcher with a ring and five pendants hanging from it. In the center there was a thin triangle carved with Horus' Eye, a protective symbol. He traced the rough metal. This strange object was made of real gold. Most likely a real artifact. It wasn't entirely legal to buy, but the strange object was compelling in a way he hadn't expected.

"This is unusual," the man muttered, "but not sure it's exactly what I was hoping for..." The Egyptian broke into a sweat as the spirit whispered threats of how his death could be carried out if the foreigner didn't take it.

"Please," he begged, "good deal. Will throw in cards for free." The vendor held out a couple worn Duel Monster cards, ones he'd gained with the pendant. The spirit insisted on keeping them, though the host didn't play the game. The foreigner blinked in surprise. The card game had become fairly popular recently, but it was unusual to have the cards just thrown in. The cards didn't look particularly special either, just a couple monster cards. Well, perhaps his son would enjoy the strange Arabic design.

"Alright," the foreigner agreed. Relieved the man gave up the cards and pendant. He took the money rapidly and began to pack up closing the stall. He would not risk the man changing his mind and giving the pendant back. No, he would stay far away from it. Perhaps visit his mother in the country. It had been some time since he'd seen her, bless her soul.

The Englishman watched in confusion as the merchant vanished into the crowd. What was that about? Perhaps the man was concerned someone would see him selling the artifact? The entire encounter felt strange. Something whispered to him to simply forget it and move on. Unsettled the foreigner turned and hurried back out of the market. He had his souvenir, now he had to hurry to catch his plane. He would never be forgiven for arriving late.

The ride wasn't long. The spirit settled down gazing over England from his place near his chosen host. He hadn't often ventured beyond the borders of his homeland. Finding a host that could bear him was difficult, and foreigners rarely lasted long before he was returned. Planes, now they were a marvel. He could go farther now. His work would be much easier. Chuckling the spirit began to plan his first move. As soon as his new host placed the pendant around his neck he'd make a new identity and begin his search.

The Englishman arrived at a small house in the town and pushed open the door. Dropping his luggage he smiled.

"I'm home!"

"Daddy!" A streak of white rushed down the hall. Distaste swelled in the spirit as a young boy was scooped up from the ground. Lovely, his new host had a family. That wouldn't last long. As soon as he had control this family would be removed from the picture. Oblivious to the spirit's plotting the man hugged his son.

"I heard someone had a birthday. How old are you now Ryou?" The white haired boy giggled. "Six today!" The spirit snorted, only mildly interested in the unusual hair color. He would have mistaken him for an albino if his eyes weren't brown. Strange, but not particularly noteworthy. He watched as a little girl and a woman with her son's white hair entered the room smiling lovingly at the father and son. He felt sick already.

The man crouched down placing the boy on the ground. He slipped his hand into the pocket closing it around the pendant. Reassured the man was still reflecting on his find the spirit relaxed.

"I have something special for you Ryou," he said. The boy grinned in delight.

"What?" Pulling out the pendant the man smiled.

"This is a special artifact. It came all the way from Egypt. It's for you. Happy birthday." WHAT?

The spirit's anger lashed out as he was passed into the child's grasp losing the tenuous connection he'd managed to form. No! His chosen host had just given him away to a worthless child! His anger boiled warming the pendant as Ryou reverently cradled it unaware of the spirit's turmoil. Unable to act without a host he could do nothing but fume.

His anger rose further as his cards were given to the young child. The kid beamed, examining the cards curiously. This couldn't happen! The cards would be torn! He did NOT want to have to find new ones. Growling the spirit stretched encouraging the kid to put it on. It was a good thing this would be easily fixed. Being possessed by a spirit was draining. It killed most eventually. With a kid this young he'd probably die instantly, and he would have his chosen host back. He smirked as the boy obeyed the small prompting, slipping the pendant over his head.

The spirit swelled in triumph, reaching to seize control-and hit a wall. No. The spirit reached again for the boy, only to find the same thing happen. He couldn't grip him. The boy was too young. As weak as he was he couldn't even act as a vessel for possession, unable to contain even a sliver of the spirit. He couldn't even talk to him! Just suggestions that could barely even make an impression! He couldn't stop the boy! He was trapped!

Howling in rage the spirit snarled smashing against his prison. This could not happen! Not to him! He was the shadows! The king of thieves! Unstoppable!

None of this mattered as the spirit's efforts were wasted. Oblivious to the dark fate handed to him Ryou smiled. His family was here, and together they'd celebrate his birthday. Right now his life was perfect. He didn't ever want this moment to end.


	5. Sick Days

Bakura watched his weakened host wander into the apartment worriedly. Of course the fool would get sick when his father was gone on one of his trips. The man was rarely home as it was, the nine year old surprisingly independent for his age. Bakura normally wouldn't care that his host was sick. He knew the boy could take care of himself. Bakura rarely had to prompt him on what was needed, able to focus more on what he wished the boy would do as he couldn't possess the brat. Today though his host needed someone else there. The fever was too high to be taken care of alone.

_Lose the medicine again landlord? Or are you simply too stupid to follow instructions?_ Bakura snapped. Wearily the child lifted up his head.

"Voice..." he muttered. Bakura rolled his eyes. The fool still wasn't used to hearing Bakura speak to him. Mostly it was just in dreams or when he was about to land himself in plenty of trouble. Still, there was no one else there.

_Who else?_ A weary smile formed on the white haired child's features. What did he have to smile about? He had a fever, about to collapse, and was utterly alone, a situation Bakura was all too familiar with.

"I'll get it," the boy promised. Huffing Bakura watched closely as his host stumbled into the bathroom and pulled down the medicine. Shakily he managed to pour a spoonful and swallowed it. Pulling a face at the taste he put it back down and headed to the kitchen.

_What are you doing?_ Bakura demanded. He needed to rest. He'd be even more useless than usual if the flu got much worse than it already was. It was bad enough he couldn't possess the boy, if he couldn't even take orders Bakura would go mad.

"I have homework," the moron replied, "I have to get it done before I can rest."

_You're worried about your stupid school?_ Bakura sneered, _Don't bother. It's pointless. I don't know why you even go there._

"I need to," the idiot said, "if I don't I can't get a job." Bakura wished he could hit something.

_LISTEN TO ME. Leave it and rest! You're already almost worthless, you have no value to me sick!_ The boy smiled again. Why did he seem pleased to hear Bakura yell at him?

"I will soon," he promised. Grumbling Bakura vanished back inside the Ring. He summoned several dummies in his room and proceeded to destroy them, imagining each one with his host's disgusting smiling face on it. Couldn't even follow orders. Worthless!

The sound of a thud outside the Ring grabbed his attention. Curious what could have caused the noise in the normally quiet apartment Bakura peeked out. Had his moronic host dropped a book or something? He was far weaker than normal.

The spirit paled as he caught sight of his host flat on the kitchen floor. It looked like the fever had finally caught up to him and dropped the boy. He'd be lucky if he survived with no one here to take care of him. Worried Bakura materialized outside the ring.

_Landlord,_ he urged, _get up. You need to wake up._ No response. _Ra's balls, landlord, get up!_ Nothing. Great. The boy had overdone it, and now he was going to die. No one would bother checking in on the quiet lad until it was too late. He'd be stuck in this apartment for who knows how long with a dead body, and nothing to do. Who knew how long it'd be until he could find another host? And Shadi might catch up with him again, the one thing he'd been relieved to not have to face this time. He might spend another couple decades locked in the Ring until he found another host.

_LANDLORD!_ Bakura howled. Desperately he reached for the boy dipping into his subconscious. He couldn't go far, the boy still unable to support enough of the spirit for Bakura to possess his body. This time however something changed. The boy stirred. Bakura perked up.

_That's right, get up,_ he urged. The body rose from the ground cheeks flushed. Bakura grinned studying his host. He was still unconscious. Somehow Bakura had finally managed to break through the barrier. It wasn't much, but enough to command simple things.

_To the room,_ Bakura instructed. The body slowly shuffled out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Gently Bakura nudged the body so he fell into the bed and tucked himself in.

Bakura had control for most of the day after that. He kept the boy down fixing the damaged body. He shouldn't have worn himself out so much.

His host had again forgotten about The Voice once recovered and heading back to school. It seemed only when he was sick or dreaming that he could acknowledge that other presence. But that was fine. Bakura grinned. Now he had a way in. Now he could use his host. And as young as he was, Bakura had the perfect chance to mold him. Soon he would have the perfect host.


	6. Abandoned

Ryou pushed open the door to the apartment dragging in his suitcases after him. There would be another couple boxes arriving tomorrow, but since it came with furniture already he had been able to take most with him now. He stared blearily into the small cozy apartment. A kitchen/living room. A bathroom. A single bedroom. There was no pretending his father wasn't serious now. He was gone. Ryou would be living alone now.

"_You're a teenager now, old enough to look after yourself, and I can't turn down this job offer," Ryou's father joked_. Of course not. He couldn't refuse a rare chance to go to work in Egypt for two years and leave his twelve year old son to look after himself. Blinking back the burning in his eyes he moved further into the apartment.

It wasn't so bad. The apartment actually seemed quite nice. His father must have paid a lot to make sure Ryou would be comfortable, and it was nice and close to his new school too. Hopefully he'd actually stay at this one long enough for it to matter. He'd hate to bother his father with yet another school transfer. His father was the only family he had left now after all, and he'd rather that he was proud of him than worrying.

_Still thinking about what that miserable excuse of a human thinks about you? He's abandoned you. For good this time hopefully._ Ryou winced at the harsh voice echoing in his mind. No, that wasn't true. His father would never abandon him. They were all they had left. It was just work that was all. Perhaps if Ryou managed to stay in one school for a year his father would even come back for Christmas. Perhaps not the same as when Amane and his mom were alive, but still good.

_Pathetic. Wasting tears on that man. He's not coming back. He's gone for good. Eager to forget the worthless son he's left behind._ Ryou frowned determined to look on the bright side. He dragged the suitcase into the room ignoring the voice's harsh words.

_You really think he cares for you? Hardly. He jumped at the chance to leave you. Soon as you were old enough so he didn't have to come back. Probably has a new family in Egypt as well, better than the old one._ What? That wasn't true. His father was obsessed with his work. He was busy, but he didn't want to abandon his family. They still loved each other.

_Don't lie. You're terrible at it. You know he hated how you reminded him of them. He wants to forget, and that means forgetting you too._ Ryou sank down on the bed shaking his head. No. This wasn't happening. He didn't know why he was thinking these things, but his father wouldn't leave him like this. He couldn't. Ryou did everything he could. He didn't know why his friends kept entering comas. He tried to not miss school. He really did.

_It's just as well. Better that he left you now than keep dragging it out. You don't need him anyways. You've been looking after yourself for years really._ Ryou entered the bathroom washing his face desperately trying to drown out the voice. Yes he was more responsible than most kids his age, but that was because his father needed him. He might be...a little lonely, but it wasn't that bad.

Ryou glanced up at the mirror and flinced. For a moment his reflection was changed, brown eyes crimson with a harsh glare set in the features. Blinking rapidly Ryou was relieved to see it return to normal.

He headed to the bed to lie down, trying to ignore the silence of the empty apartment. Things would get better. He was used to being alone.

_You're not alone landlord...I will never leave._ Closing his eyes Ryou finally acknowledged the ache inside, reaching for comfort from The Voice that always appeared when he was at his worst.

"_Promise?_"


	7. Mana's Ka

**gamergirl101's prompt: Mana and Mahaad doing magic together**

Mana sat reverently in the large room. The light as dim despite the high sun outside making the stone bowls and statues flicker in the light. in front of her Mahaad knelt, his large staff crossed over his lap. In her mind he looked wonderful, every inch the magician he was training to be. His clothes were sharply pressed, long dark hair brushed back. It was different from how most would wear their hair, but it somehow looked dignified with his sharp gaze. It was hard to believe he was still training like her.

Mana's outfit was plain in comparison, still wearing simple servant clothes. It would be years until she had the right to wear magician robes. Still, she knew her magic was powerful. It was why she served in the palace. Today was just her first day of formal training. She had already learned how to control the wild bursts of magic that would escape from her. Now she would learn to use her ka. After so many years watching and racing to catch up with Mahaad, she was here.

Mahaad smiled gently at Mana. "Is your mind cleared Mana?" As always his voice was quiet and soothing, yet still managing to have a commanding note in it. It was rare to break his composure, and Mana and the prince had both regretted those times, no matter how amusing their idea had seemed at the time. Just another reason why she idolized the older servant she worked with. Mana nodded her head, relieved that she had managed to reach the clear state necessary to control hr magic.

"Close your eyes and feel for your magic." Mana closed her eyes and felt for the familiar warmth of her magic. She shivered slightly feeling Mahaad's own magic caress her, helping to direct her deeper in. It wasn't long before that familiar touch vanished entirely, merging into the shadowy magic inside her.

"Once you reach the center of your magic you should feel your ka's presence." Mana tensed slightly. Even as deep in as she was she was nervous she'd fail this step. What if she couldn't find her ka? Or it was something weak and silly? What if it wouldn't listen to her? What if it refused to materialize?

A cool hand over her own calmed her heart.

"It's alright Mana, just focus on your ka. It's waiting for you." A small smile flitted over her lips. As always he was right there, able to read her far too well. Even with how busy he was training he seemed to be able o understand her thoughts in just a glance. Focusing inward once more she poked around in her magic.

Feeling something stir at her prodding Mana's heart leaped. She found it! Excited she prodded the shadow spirit again. Her ka uncurled unhappily from it's home around her core. Mana blinked, finding herself facing a young girl that seemed to mimic Mahaad's ka. Embarrassed she withdrew a little. The young ka blinked at her curiously, a questioning feeling nudging her. It wasn't her ka's fault, but Mana felt embarrassed seeing her wishes so clearly shape her ka.

"Have you found your ka?" Mana nodded her head, hoping that she wasn't slowly turning red.

"Good. Pour your magic into your ka, and picture it in the room with us." Mana looked at her ka. Summon the magician girl into the same room as Mahaad? How could she? Her ka leaned forward, clearly curious about her presence there. Her ka had helped her stay safe when she was younger and unable to control her magic, but her ka had not yet been fully formed or summoned. It suddenly seemed as if the day she'd been so eager for had arrived too soon.

Her ka laughed, the playful spirit flipping to hang upside down. Nudging Mana the spirit grinned.

_You're supposed to summon me now._ Mana blinked, a little surprised they were talking.

_"What's your name?"_

_Magician Girl mistress._ Of course. Mana smiled at the irony. Such a simple name. It'd be obvious why her ka was shaped this way. Well at least she knew now her ka would listen to her. Immediately she began to pour her magic into Magician Girl. She'd already hesitated long enough.

It was easy adding her magic to her ka, the bond between them strengthening. The difficulty came in returning. Her ka had rested on the edge of the Shadow Realm, and it wasn't easy to leave there. Mana knew this first time would be the hardest. She struggled back to the room, suddenly finding the flow of magic fighting against her. She was feeling tired already when she again grew aware of the room and Mahaad's hand touching her comfortingly. The magic she usually drew on had poured into her ka.

"Mana?" Mahaad asked softly. Her name contained all his worry, care, and wish to help. She wished she could answer, but she couldn't afford to let her concentration waver. Magician Girl's image clear in her mind she pictured the young ka in the room. Something seemed to twist, a dizzy feeling washing through her, and she felt her ka-right there. She was here!

Opening her eyes Mana gazed at Magician Girl. The young ka hovered in the air peering around curiously. A soft squeak escaped her as she spotted Mahaad. The older magician turned around, lips quirking slightly as he looked at Mana's ka. She knew for sure this time her cheeks were red.

"Good job summoning your ka," Mahaad congratulated. Mana bobbed her head. Magician Girl drifted closer poking at Mahaad.

_"Mahaad?"_ the ka questioned. The smirk on the usually stern faced magician sent Mana's stomach in a flop.

"That would be me," he confirmed. Giggling Magician Girl somersaulted lightly in the air studying the older magician.

_"I see why she likes you."_

"Magician Girl!" Her ka looked up with a wink, and vanished. Mahaad chuckled and looked to Mana, a single eyebrow raised.

"Seems your ka will be as difficult to keep up with as you are." Mana blushed. Suddenly giddy with success her exhaustion from the summoning disappeared. Grabbing a cushion she hit Mahaad.

"Please! You've never been able to keep up with me!" The serious lesson abandoned Mana leaped up and dashed out the door.

"Hey!" Mahaad cried. Laughing she vanished into the palace. Keep up with her? That would never happen.

She was the one trying to keep up with him.


	8. Dark Magician

It was cold galloping out into the desert. It was difficult to remember the heat of the day when the night stole it so effectively. Mahaad touched the Ring reflexively assuring himself it was there. If things proved to be worse than he thought he would have it's power to help against the tomb robber. After all, no ordinary man could claim the title of King of Thieves, or break into the palace promising to return to destroy the pharaoh.

Ishtar's Necklace had shown that the tomb robber had returned to the former pharaoh's tomb. Strange that he would return there as he had already plundered it, but it was the only lead they had. Mahaad didn't care for this thief's arrogance. He was too sure of himself, something was wrong. Mahaad had chosen to go alone to confront the tomb robber, hoping to stop him before it truly began.

The magician halted his horse, tying the beast to a post left over from the servants that had worked here. It would be removed with the remaining signs of work around the pyramid soon enough, but for now it remained. Mahaad glanced around warily. The desert was seemingly empty, just the pyramid and the long shadows of the columns leading to its entrance. The thief was supposed to be here. Mahaad muttered a soft spell the shadows pulsing out in search of life. Nothing human returned with the spell. His neck prickled at the thought. Ishtar's Necklace could not be wrong. The tomb robber would be here. So why couldn't he sense him? His new pharaoh had been on the throne for only a day, and it seemed already a dangerous threat was in the making. Mahaad had watched the pharaoh most of his life. He would even imagine they were friends, if the pharaoh would allow such. Mahaad would not let this threat destroy him. He would give everything to protect the pharaoh, even his life.

"Tomb robber!" Mahaad shouted, "I know you're here! You cannot hide from the Millennium Items!" He looked around searching for the thief. A low chuckle echoed over the open plains. The magician stiffened, trying to locate the source. Where was he? A slow clap brought his attention to a nearby pillar, the white haired thief leaning against it. How was that possible? Mahaad should have seen him earlier. His teeth clenched seeing the former pharaoh's cloak wrapped around the man's body. How dare he desecrate the dead that way?

"So, the pharaoh's loyal dog has sought me out. Hoping to defeat me yourself? Afraid I'm too much for the baby pharaoh to handle?" Mahaad drew his staff in anger.

"The pharaoh is greater than you could imagine," Mahaad snapped.

"Oh, did I touch a nerve? My bad." The thief smirked. Mahaad watched warily as the scarred tomb robber moved closer.

"I hope you didn't come just to lecture me. I was hoping for something more entertaining tonight." Mahaad grimaced.

"I'm here to arrest you in the name of the pharaoh."

"Do try." Irritated Mahaad slammed his staff down. A bolt of green shot toward the thief, more than powerful enough to defeat him. A sudden gust stirred up, and he found himself facing a wall of spirits. The light struck them instead. Their pain and anger seemed to tear at him as they took the blow meant for their master.

"What sorcery is this to command the dead?" Mahaad shouted.

"You don't recognize the pharaoh's work? It was a gift, payment you could say, for what he took from me." Mahaad's eyes narrowed. What was he talking about?

"The pharaoh would never use such black magic," he defended. The thief smirked.

"Obviously you didn't know him as well as I did." Stepping back the tomb robber concentrated. The gold summoning band appeared on his arm digging slightly into the sheath he had beneath.

"Diabound, destroy this petty magician!" Mahaad's eyes widened as a dark serpentine ka took form. The beast was huge, far stronger than any ka he'd seen outside the palace, perhaps even rivaling his own. He refused to be threatened however. Mahaad rapidly drew the summoning circle with his staff the ground lighting up as he called for his own spirit.

"Shadow Magician, destroy Diabound!" The shadow spirit materialized, a staff similar to Mahaad's held in his hand. Shadow Magician struck Mahaad pouring his own energy and power into his ka to help destroy the thief's ka. Unfortunately the same spirits that had blocked his attack on the ka's master shielded the summoned serpentine, absorbing the worst of the blow. Diabound and his foul master were left untouched.

"Nice try," the thief sneered, "Diabound, devour this pathetic spirit and his master." Mahaad flinched raising an arm against the strong blow the ka delivered. Shadow Magician managed to catch the ka against his staff, but the power was greater than he'd expected. The staff shattered, master and spirit damaged by the attack.

The ka didn't give up. His long tail whipped out jerking Mahaad off his feet from behind. Shadow Magician tried to attack again and defend Mahaad, but the spirits the tomb robber commanded simply stopped the blow. How could he hope to defeat Diabound and the tomb robber if the spirits deflected every attack they made? Diabound seized the magician's ka holding him tight so another spell couldn't be prepared. Caught this time the spirit cried in pain as Diabound tightened his arms to begin crushing the ka's bones.

"Shadow Magician!" Mahaad cried. The echoing pain rocked through his pain the link binding them forcing him to his knees. He knew with a sudden clarity that he couldn't win this fight. He would be defeated if he continued this way. With his energy spent he could not defend himself, and once Shadow Magician was gone he'd be next on the list.

No! If he fell here the Millennium Ring would be the thief's, and the pharaoh would be in even greater danger. He couldn't give up! Grasping the Ring in his hand Mahaad looked at it. The Item was dangerous, but if it could let him win this battle he had no choice, no matter the cost. Mahaad poured what little energy he had left into the Ring, letting it rip open. Connecting to Shadow Magician Mahaad watched his ka twist, the power of the Shadow Realm revitalizing his ka. Shadow Magician gasped in relief, breaking free of Diabound. Feeling the raw power channeled through him the ka formed another staff. The serpentine ka fell back coiling on the ground in rage. The creature hissed, not deterred from his course. Shadow Magician healed from the damage letting the Shadow Realm's power run through his veins. Mahaad smiled wearily. It was difficult, but the Ring had strengthened his ka. With it backing them the tomb robber would fall.

For a moment the white haired man seemed shocked. Mahaad had managed to catch him by surprise. Quick as a wink however the man recovered laughing at Mahaad's attempt and taking the Ring's involvement in stride.

"So you finally used it," the tomb robber spoke, "I wondered how long until I would see for myself the power the pharaoh wielded." Mahaad pushed himself to stand, struggling to not shake with exhaustion.

"You can't win against the Shadow Realm's might," Mahaad whispered. The tomb robber tilted his head, just catching the exhausted magician's words.

"Perhaps," the tomb robber said, "but I know someone who can." Diabound smirked curling back around his master. Mahaad stood at Shadow Magician's side watching warily for the tomb robber's next trick.

"Zorc," the tomb robber called, "Zorc! It is time to fill your promise!" Shadows thickened, the land transforming at the invocation. Mahaad gasped feeling the Shadow Realm pour unwillingly into this realm, dark yellow eyes glaring hatefully behind the tomb robber. He was right, this man was more than just a thief. The man had made a pact with a demon.

Worn as he was Mahaad knew he couldn't face the demon. Even with the Ring he wasn't strong enough. He would fall, and the pharaoh would face the tomb robber, unaware of the demon behind him and the loss of the Ring. No, he couldn't let this happen. Mahaad grit his teeth. He might die today, but he would not go down without giving everything he had. Mahaad glanced at the Ring despairingly. There was one more trick up his sleeve, one he had despaired to use. He had not imagined it would come to this. There was more to the Ring however. It could seal souls, and that perhaps, would give him the edge.

Pulling out the Ring Mahaad chanted quickly. The dark light proceeding his magic spread over the ground.

"You think your petty magic can match Zorc's power? Your struggles only delay the inevitable," the thief laughed. Mahaad closed his eyes feeling his body tear apart. This was it. Silently he apologized to the pharaoh. He would never again leave the pharaoh's side. If only this hadn't been the price. Shadow Magician moved closer to him the spirit bracing against the pain. In a final flash he felt himself merge with the shadow spirit.

Memories of years spent roaming the Shadow Realm flashed through his mind. Life there had been challenging and fulfilling at the same time, battling others and finding those he could befriend. The Shadow Realm had been a place to rest and play. The first time he had been summoned by his master had been almost painful, the brighter world harsh against the shadow spirit. He had been eager to return home after duels. As time passed he'd grown attached to his master and his world, serving faithfully and learning to enjoy the glimpses of the world his master fought in.

That simplicity was gone now. The shadow spirit wasn't just a simple being fromt he Shadow Realm. Mahaad was here as well, his memories and complex emotions that came with being human joining the ka. It felt strange, feelings of loyalty sealing him to the pharaoh. He would never serve another. His thoughts slowly cleared the Dark Magician looking over at the thief and his ka. He might no longer be human, but he would not let this man harm the pharaoh!

The tomb robber looked startled. His easy composure slipped seeing the two beings merge into one to fight him. Dark Magician smiled grimly. Mahaad had sacrificed what he was for this, knowing there was no way to turn back. He would not let that sacrifice be in vain. Dark Magician struck out with a spell-only to again be thwarted by the spirits! The thief cackled.

"A foolish attempt. You've only made this easier. Diabound, destroy this monster!" Screeching in triumph Diabound attacked. Shocked Dark Magician struggled to hold himself together, only to shatter, banished back to the Shadow Realm.

He'd lost...and the Ring was now the thief's.


	9. Child Prince

The prince happily banged the golden item on the ground listening to the clink of the chains. The shiny pendants hanging from the ring dazzled the young child. He picked it up and promptly stuck the lovely gold object in his mouth.

"I know I saw it around here somewhere," someone called. The prince giggled hearing the familiar voice. The woman often played with him when his daddy was busy. As soon as she entered the room the prince cooed at her waving one of his hands. The gold ring remained firmly in his mouth.

"Prince!" The woman scooped up the playful toddler and snuggled him close. Warm and safe he relaxed in her grip happily waving the ring around. The pendants jangled again at the movement the child utterly pleased by the reaction. Laughing softly the woman looked at the prince.

"Naughty boy, chewing on the Millennium Ring! Amses would be furious if he found out," the woman teased. The prince laughed shaking his head, the woman chuckling with him.

"Alright, it'll be our secret." Hugging the prince the woman carefully extracted the Ring from the toddler, offering a bracelet in exchange. The toddler pouted at the loss of his new toy, but accepted the new one nevertheless.

"Come on, don't pout," the woman cajoled, "you know it's not yours." The mini prince scowled at her, not buying her argument in the slightest. He had it, so it was his. He had liked that toy. Laughing the woman kissed his nose drawing out a soft giggle.

"Come, let's return this to Amses." Sweeping out of the room the woman elegantly crossed over to a rather upset looking man, a scowl seemingly carved into his features. He brightened as he caught a glimpse of pair.

"My Ring! You found it!" Eagerly he reclaimed the object, the prince finally distracted enough to let it out of his sight.

"You really should be more careful," she scolded, "you can't just leave it lying around."

"Sorry," Amses said, "thanks for helping." The woman inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement.

"I'll see you later. The prince and I will be in the playroom." Sweeping back she headed back towards the room the prince had come from, balancing the toddler on one hip. They were barely around the corner when they heard Amses shout.

"Why are there teeth marks on my Ring?"


	10. Ghosts of Kul Elna

Bakura shivered inside his house. He knew he should get up. There was plenty of work to do. Fetch water, clean the house, help find food. Sooner or later his mom would yell at him to come out.

Except that wasn't true. Bakura strained and strained and strained to hear _anything _other than himself in the house, but there was nothing. He couldn't even find a mouse. As if what the guards had done hadn't just killed his village, but everything living here except him. He was the only one left. Bowing his head Bakura shuddered. The cut on his cheek still stung. In the chaos it had been far too easy for him to escape. He should have tried to leave the village, but everyone who'd attempted that had been cut down. He could only hide and hope he wasn't found.

He hadn't been, but Bakura wasn't sure if he thought that was good anymore. Dying by the sword would be quick. Starving to death was far more slow. He had only left the house yesterday for the first time since he'd realized he was the only one left. He'd grabbed some water, and hurried back home unsure what to do now that he was alone. Bakura kept hoping he'd close his eyes and find it had just been a nightmare. But even as young as he was he knew reality was cruel. This was real. It had happened. And he didn't even have a way to mourn them. The soldiers had destroyed so much hunting the villagers. Now there was just him. What could a kid do on his own?

_Bakuuraaaa..._ Bakura stiffened. What was that?

_Bakuuraaa..._ Shakily the kid stood up. Something was here. Someone had come back to the village, and they were looking for him. Was it to finish the job? How had they found out? Clutching the small knife he'd found Bakura stood up. He wasn't going to let whatever that was take him. He'd survived the guards. He'd survived being hungry. And he would survive this. Whoever was out there was about to learn Bakura was no victim.

He slid over to the window as silently as he could manage. Peering out he scanned for who was calling him. Nothing was there. The same aching emptiness that had been there before still stalked him. Closing his eyes Bakura shook his head. Perhaps he hadn't really heard anything. Perhaps it was just the heat making him think he had.

_Bakura..._

A ghostly distorted form materialized in front of him. Shrieking he stumbled back.

_Bakura,_ the spirit called. Trembling he stared at it. There was something familiar about the face. Before he could figure out what it was it was gone, only a slight shimmer showing it was still there. Bakura watched as the spirit moved restlessly. Behind it he could see even more of the shimmers. Cautiously he stood back up. Bakura edged to the window still gripping the knife tightly. It couldn't harm a spirit, but it did make him feel better. Looking out Bakura gaped in aw. There had to be almost a hundred ghosts out there! They drifted through the village restlessly, their pain and anger pounding faintly against his mind.

_Bakura,_ the spirits called. He watched in terror as the spirits shifted, some of them partially forming distorted familiar faces before again turning back to nothing more than a shimmer. He watched the dance again and again. Their movements were hypnotic in their familiarity.

No. It couldn't be. It couldn't be them.

_"_Mom?" he called out hesitantly. The spirits stirred in excitement one of them drifting closer.

_Bakura,_ the spirit sighed happily. His gut twisted. So he was right. This was the other villagers. Reaching out Bakura shivered, their pain lashing against him.

"Why do you hurt so much?" Bakura whimpered. The spirits twisted in rage.

_The pharaoh sacrificed usss...can't move on...hurts so much..._ Bakura staggered back the horrors of the night breaking against his mind. It ached, feeling echoes of himself boil down to gold.

"Make it stop!" The spirits withdrew. Bakura looked at them tears staining his face. It hurt so much. The spirits seemed disappointed.

"What do you want?" Bakura asked. They were spirits, but he knew them. He didn't like how much they were hurting. His family and friends were in that group.

_Revenge..._ the ghostly whisper rose the hairs on the back of his neck.

_Revenge,_ the spirits called, _help us Bakura..._ Shaking a little he looked at the spirits.

"Help you?"

_Revenge,_ the spirits whispered. Bakura stared at the spirits. His village had come back, just as he'd hoped, against the impossible. But it still wasn't better. Perhaps this was worse, feeling their pain. Still, they were his. He couldn't turn them away.

"I'll help you," Bakura promised, "you'll have your revenge." The spirits shrieked in delight. Rushing towards him the spirits one by one passed through his body. Buffeted Bakura gasped as each wave brought memories and emotions, tying him to the ghosts more securely than before. Exhausted Bakura fell to the ground. The spirits still felt restless, their emotions now clamoring in his head, but for now his words had brought peace, and he was no longer alone. Curling up the haunted child closed his eyes. Tomorrow he'd begin his work.


	11. Scarred

Bakura was determined to live.

Staying in Kul Elna wouldn't help him with that. It was a wasteland after everyone had been slaughtered, and he couldn't stay there. Not with the ghosts whispering to him of revenge. He had to leave, get some space, see if he could find a way to grant their wish. He hated that they were trapped with him. Hated that his family was there but unable to reach him except through the harsh whispers that accompanied him everywhere. So he left. The spirits came with him but they weren't as powerful away from the village, quieter. He could actually think.

He was still hungry, and nobody wanted to help a dirty rugrat like him, especially one with such strange hair. He wasn't an albino, but his pale hair made him look unnatural. The distant look in his eyes when he heard the spirits talking didn't help either. So he stole. It wasn't too different from before. Bakura had already been learning how to be a thief before his village was murdered. It had been little things then, an apple here, a coin bag there. Nothing huge, and he had always known that he'd have food at home and wouldn't starve.

Now he was. When before he had been fascinated by gold and jewels for their beauty now he was driven to take whatever he could just to silence the angry growling in his stomach for a little time. His age worked against him. Few trusted the goods a dirty orphan would have. More than once he had almost been arrested and his hand cut off for being a thief. Luckily he still had his village, or at least the spirits. They would warn him when he was too close to being caught.

Life was hard and hungry. It wasn't long before he began to collect scars, thin pale ones from scratches and wider more jagged ones where his flesh had been torn open. The worst was when he'd broken his arm. He had barely managed to return to his hideout practically blinded by the pain. It had been bad when he tried to fix it. He passed out a few times. The ghosts told him what to do, and that helped, but it was pure luck he didn't die before his arm healed. He had never been as thin in his life as he was when his arm was healing from the break.

He had a goal though, and he wouldn't let go of it. He would get revenge against the pharaoh and destroy him for what he'd done. His dreams were filled with nightmares of seeing his village destroyed and messy rage filled vengeance, always accompanied by the soothing whispers of the spirits telling him he was doing the right thing.

Bakura got better at stealing. He was good at slight of hand and learned how to charm people to look past his appearance while he took from them. He found other thieves and shadowed them learning from what they did. He grew more confident taking jewelry, old enough now to not be looked at so suspiciously when he traded. He would never get as hungry as he had been when he broke his arm again. Bakura was determined to make sure of that. And he was good enough that he wasn't. Unfortunately he began to get cocky.

It had been a normal run. He had found a jewels merchant and had walked in while the man was out for lunch. Bakura had taken his time selecting what jewels he wanted. The man was good at picking out his wares. He lingered over a set of sapphires, so beautifully cut he could almost see his own reflection in it. Perfect. But which should he take?

He shouldn't have lingered. He'd miscalculated how long the merchant would be gone for.

"Hey! What are you doing back here?" Bakura whipped around in shock dark eyes wide. The merchant's eyes narrowed seeing the small bag Bakura had been emptying jewels into and the sapphire in his hand.

"Thief!" he roared. Bakura quickly darted forward hoping to get around the merchant and into the open. His arm was grabbed jerking him off balance.

"You filthy little beast! The guards know how to deal with your kind." Bakura snarled slashing out with his small knife. It barely pricked the merchant. He only tightened his grip instead of letting go like he'd hoped. Shaking him roughly the merchant dragged the young thief out.

"I've caught a thief! Guards!" The crowd glanced over, intrigued by the cries. Bakura kept trying to fight, his knife taken from him in a sharp twist. Unfortunate Bakura was too small to fight against the brute strength the merchant had over him. Surprise and speed was his only advantage, and he had already lost one. A guard came over and grinned nastily at the ten year old.

"A thief hey? Guess the brat decided he doesn't need two hands." The merchant watched smiling as Bakura's hands were tied behind his back by the guard. Desperate Bakura looked around. if he lost his hand everyone would know what he'd done, and he would never survive. The spirits whipped around him in agitation, yelling that he needed to live, needed to give them their revenge. He knew that! But how was he supposed to do that if he only had one hand?

Dragged over to a board Bakura's hands were untied. he fought desperately against the guard but couldn't escape as his hand was placed mercilessly on the board. He was gonna lose it. Bakura slumped down. His thoughts raced, he had to keep going, had to survive somehow. The spirits whispered to him, telling him of close escapes, one handed thieves, and grisly slow deaths from those who couldn't make it. The guard glanced away to draw his sword.

Bakura's eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to lose his hand. He needed it to reach his goal and destroy the pharaoh. Thinking of the escapes he'd heard of a desperate plan formed. The guard turned back around-and Bakura threw himself into him. Taken off guard he released Bakura, the sword slicing smoothly across Bakura's face. He yelped in pain blood blinding him in one eye as he backed up. Rapidly he turned and twisted into the crowd.

furious he'd escaped the guard shouted people turning to see the white haired child running desperately. It was far too easy to keep track of him. He was the only one with white hair, and the gash across his face made him even easier to follow. Bakura dodged down an alley twisting into the back streets. As soon as he could he grabbed a cloth and dragged it over himself forming a temporary cloak. Crouched down against a wall he could almost pass as one of the beggars that lined the alleys.

Moving slower now he walked down a couple more streets before stopping and leaning against a wall huddled into the cloth. His face stung but at least in the shadows they couldn't see the cut, and the cloth covered his distinctive hair. He listened to the agitated crowd. It didn't take long for interest to be lost. He was just one thief among many after all. Relieved Bakura rolled the stolen cloth up and added it to his satchel. He was lucky he hadn't lost the entire day's work, even if the jewel merchant had taken back the bag he'd been using earlier. There wasn't much in there, some dates and a few coins, but the day wasn't a complete waste. He headed back towards the small cave he was currently using outside of town. He wouldn't be able to do anymore in this town. A white haired thief wouldn't be quickly forgotten. He'd have to go to a new town.

In the cave Bakura cleaned away the blood, gingerly checking the cut. It wasn't as bad as he'd thought, just a slice below his left eye. It was jagged and messy, but he would live. Sighing he dropped down. He would have to remember this. He had been too sure of himself. The new cut would scar, a permanent reminder of his mistake. The ghosts wrapped themselves around Bakura as he laid down, whispering comfort and revenge. He had escaped. He would reach his goal. Closing his eyes he slipped into his dreams, as bloody as the cut on his face.


	12. Diabound

Bakura practiced with his new ally. It was difficult learning how to summon Diabound. He had done it the first time through pure will, now he wanted to be able to call the shadowy creature anytime he wished. It wasn't easy. The summons drained him of energy, taking something from him in exchange for letting Diabound manifest. But it was getting easier and the serpentine was always eager to answer.

Their first tomb run had been almost ridiculously easy. Bakura already knew how to be stealthy and had scouted ahead at what curses were likely in the tomb. There had been barely any, as the noble had been nobody of importance. Diabound had cheerfully smashed through the magic guarding the treasure, letting Bakura take his prize at his leisure.

He knew he should have been more cautious, but flushed with success and a new source of power Bakura was quick to set his sights on a more difficult challenge. The tomb was brand new, treasures still being added as the body was prepared. A single soldier was stationed on watch outside. Bakura knew Diabound could shatter the magic in the tomb with ease, and wasn't worried at all about facing a single soldier. He'd faced tougher odds alone.

Bakura easily slipped past the soldier's gaze into the tomb. He paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the semi darkness before beginning to scan for the first trap creeping along inside. Sensing it he smiled and reached inside to where Diabound rested.

"Come forth Diabound," Bakura muttered. His shadowy ally rapidly answered the summons the shadows twisting as he came into being. Hissing he gazed around measuring the threats.

"Destroy the traps," Bakura commanded. Cheerfully Diabound struck out the magic viciously twisting in protest. A shout from the soldier alerted Bakura. That shouldn't have happened. How had they been noticed? Had he sensed the tampering Diabound was doing somehow? He spun around bracing himself. Entangled in the trap Diabound was too involved fighting the magic to react to the danger. The soldier ran into the hall Bakura's eyes widening at the sight of an axe wielding creature following behind.

"Axe Raider, attack the ka!" the soldier bellowed. Ka? So Diabound wasn't unique, there were more shadow creatures like him. Good to know, but too late to be useful now. Bakura drew his blade and backed up, searching for a way past without a direct fight. The soldier's ka struck Diabound hard though, and tangled in the magic he couldn't escape. Screeching in pain Diabound writhed, trying to fight off the axe raider. Unfortunately the ka was powerful, another blow shattering Diabound. Bakura cried in pain as Diabound was forced back into the shadows drawing on Bakura's life to help keep himself together.

Staggering slightly Bakura hissed. What was that? Was Diabound destroyed? Gone before Bakura even had the chance to learn what he was capable of? Furious he straightened and struck out, his blade meeting against the soldier's spear.

"Not so fast," the soldier growled, "They'll be interested to see what you can do at the barracks." Bakura chuckled.

"Like I'll let you take me anywhere." Drawing a second blade Bakura stabbed past the defense hitting the soldier's chest. Gasping in pain the soldier stepped back. Bakura kicked him knocking him off balance. Seizing the opening he rushed out to escape the tomb. A roar sounded behind him. The soldier's shadow spirit was following. Gritting his teeth Bakura scanned for a place to hide. The axe raider had destroyed Diabound, it could easily kill him. Alas the hall was a straight shot. He darted out the entrance and kept running. He faintly heard another low growl, but the creature didn't follow. It must not want to leave it's master behind. Sighing Bakura slowed down heading back to the town.

He needed help. Bakura was clever, but he simply didn't know enough to be able to handle the shadow creatures on his own. He needed a teacher, someone to tell him how the creatures worked and whether or not Diabound was destroyed, and if he was how to get a new shadow spirit. The thought felt almost treacherous, but he couldn't let anything get in the way of his goal. Thinking he glanced around the busy market he'd wandered to. A thin man with beady eyes conjured flames for a small crowd, a basket out to collect money. Bakura's eyes narrowed thinking.

The magician wasn't much, but he probably wouldn't have many scruples about teaching Bakura. That was the best Bakura could hope for. Hopefully the magician would be greedy or fearful enough to teach Bakura. Finding a magician that would teach a thief would be difficult. Casually he strolled toward the magician, already planning what he could learn.


	13. First Kill

Bakura had grown powerful over the years. He was a clever thief, one of the best. Good enough to command the attention of the underworld and still remain fairly anonymous. Good enough to be called king.

He still wasn't powerful enough for his revenge. No matter the training he had for his ka, no matter how innately shadow magic fell to his hands, he still wasn't good enough. But he was a tomb robber, and with each tomb he successfully raided he grew more powerful as Diabound devoured the ancient magic and curses.

He should have realized this would draw attention. After all, not everyone could be called King of Thieves. But he was still caught off guard when the mercenary held a blade to his neck. "Don't," he warned.

The mercenary merely grinned. I've heard of you, of the bounty that's been placed on your head. You've upset a lot of people. They want you dead, and I'll collect." Bakura laughed, a rough sound echoed in the ghosts that always whirled around him. "You think you can collect it? Try, and you'll be dead."

The mercenary gritted his teeth and swiped the blade forward. Bakura ducked, feeling the knife skirt across his scars. Furious he shoved the man back. They wrestled with the blade, both men struggling to turn it on the other. With a thunk it hit the mercenary. Bakura grinned, triumphant as the man stared at him in shock. "I told-"

The man's body collapsed. Bakura stared. "What?" He bent down. The mercenary. He-he was dead. Bakura rapidly checked for a heartbeat. Nothing. "No, no, no." He'd never killed before. Threatened, maimed, but never killed.

Shakily Bakura sat back his hands drenched in blood. "I..." Had he truly done this? Taken a life? The spirits around him shrieked in delight, spinning around him. Triumphant that one of those that would try to stand in their way was dead. _This was good,_ they whispered. _This was meant to be._

For the first time the meaning of revenge truly sank in. He'd sought it all his life, but somehow had never pictured what it would be to take a life. And now he had. Visions of more death flashed before his eyes, as horrific and painful as the deaths of his village. They fit, somehow. For each one that had died a life would be snuffed out. Bakura shook, overridden with the blood and death and screams and _stench-_

Bakura cracked. Blood on his hands. Blood that would always be there, as he would kill all those that he could, sate his bloodlust with theirs. Blood he could never forget, because of the pharaoh. He laughed.

And something in the shadows heard him.


End file.
